Adored
by vampymistress
Summary: Rachel Berry and Quentin Fabray are shooting stars from two different worlds. One has her sights set on the stage while the other has his sights set on his latest challenge. We all know something big happens when two stars collide. Genderswap!Quinn. Rated M for mature language.
1. Do It (Duets)

**ADORED**

**Disclaimer:**Even though this will be AU, I do not, have not, and will not own any of the characters unless they are an original character. All characters used belong to Ryan Murphy and FOX Company.

**Summary: **Rachel Berry and Quentin Fabray are shooting stars from two different worlds. One has her sights set on the stage while the other has his sights set on his latest challenge. We all know something big happens when two stars collide. Genderswap!Quinn. Rated M for mature language.

**A/N: **First time writing both Genderswap!Quinn and a story without a supernatural element. Go easy on me. And if anyone would like to be my beta, well, that would be awesome. Also, since this is AU, Shelby and Hiram are Rachel's parents, Quentin's parents actually _care_, and Beth obviously doesn't exist. (But that last one isn't so AU is it?) Also, updates might be sporadic. I cannot promise an update on a particular day, although I usually update during the week.

**A/N2: **I'm trying to write Quentin from both the male perspective and Quinn's own. It's rather difficult combining the two. But I'd like to know how I'm faring in the eyes of my readers. Reviews are highly appreciated.

Chapter One: Do It / Duets

Rachel's POV

In my room, the blinking cursor on my laptop stares back at me, mocking me. Nothing else can serve as a distraction. Not the case of awards, not the walls covered with posters, or the karaoke machine in the corner. For the first time in my life, I haven't the slightest clue what to say. Well, type, rather. For some unwarranted reason, Mr. Schue has given us homework that had nothing to do with singing. It gets worse. In an effort to bring our group even closer together, he paired us up and decided that we should spend time with our partner and write what we have learned. It was obvious that he would pair us up with someone we didn't normally get along with, but my partner wasn't who I expected.

Of all the people in glee club, he had to pair me with _Quentin Fabray_.

That's right. Quentin Fabray. Jock of jocks, homecoming king of kings.

First and foremost, I had no idea why Quentin was even in glee. Granted, his voice sounded nearly as angelic as my own, but he had no reason to join, let alone bring his crew. With Quentin came an influx of new members. Santana Lopez, Kitty Wilde, and Brittany Pierce were his right-hand girls. They had known each other since in vitro and were practically inseparable. When he declared that he wanted to begin singing and dancing on a regular basis, they had it in their hearts to find a love for singing as well. Other than those three, he had girls throwing themselves at his feet while the saner of the species tried our best to avoid him entirely. Getting involved with him was never a good idea. It meant suffering the wrath of the Cheerios, all of whom had fancied him at some point or another.

I could never figure out what it was that made most girls so attracted to him when they knew what could happen if they stepped within two feet of him. Maybe it was the whole fatal attraction element that really got them going. Quentin was tall and had the features of a Greek god, but there must be something other than his physique that made half our school population swoon at his feet. He was in quite a lot of my AP classes, but that certainly couldn't be the reason the girls wanted him.

With a sigh, I closed my laptop, flung myself onto my bed and screamed my frustrations into the floral pink bedspread. Doing this assignment properly means that I will have to risk my state of mind and get to know Quentin on a personal level. But it wasn't as if I'm actually getting graded on it so not completing this won't affect my chances of admittance into NYADA. What did I really have to worry about?

**_THE NEXT DAY_**

"I'm just saying, we should make a Doctor Who fan club." Sam was saying as we walked towards the choir room. The four of us – Sam, Artie, Marley, and me – had just come from our shared last class of the day, Physics. When class had ended on the topic of the space time continuum Artie brought up Doctor Who which was easily our favourite programme.

"Yeah, and all the noobs who have only ever seen one episode will want to join." Artie said, scoffing as he rolled alongside us.

"We could make it a requirement for all new members to have at least seen the ninth doctor-" Marley began to suggest, but I held out my hand.

"And suffer through Christopher Eccleston's lack of facial expressions? They can start with David Tennant."

We were laughing as we walked inside only to see the rest of the glee clubbers staring back at us with varying levels of curiosity. Our laughter stopped abruptly and we took our seats, facing a rather upset looking Mr. Schue. Insert a worn out saying about how thick tension was here, and you get the idea.

"I'm going to get straight to the point. Not one of you could find time in your busy schedules to complete your partner assignments." A chorus of surprised mumbling broke out. It had appeared that everyone thought the assignment – and their partner, for that matter – wasn't all that important. But even though valid points were made, Mr. Schue was having none of it. He raised his hands to silence the group so that he could speak again.

"You guys aren't getting off that easily. In order to look good and win at Sectionals, we have to seem like more than just a bunch of kids singing and dancing. We have to look like a family. So, I'm adding more to your assignment." He flipped the whiteboard over, revealing the topic "Duets".

"_Merda santa_." Santana groaned out.

"We're going to go through a bunch of things designed to bring you closer to your partner. The first item is a duet."

Mr. Schue had us spread out around the choir room with our partners to come up with a song to sing on Thursday, our next meeting. Quentin and I were seated by the piano, facing each other. He was wearing a plain black v-neck that he must purposely purchase a size too small so that his muscles stand out and a pair of paint splattered khakis. His long blonde hair flopped over one hazel eye and a charcoal pencil was tucked behind one of his ears. He was slumped back in his seat, and I couldn't find the factor that made girls throw themselves at him. Quentin smirked as he watched me assessing him and flexed as if he'd caught me _checking him out_.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Fabray, let's get this over with. What do you want to sing?"

He leaned forward, a hurt expression on his face. "Whoa, don't you want to spend time with me, short stack?"

"Contrary to popular opinion, not everyone is obsessed with you."

He propped his arm up on his knee and put his chin in his hands, staring at me with inquisitive hazel eyes. "Enlighten me, Berry. Why don't you like me?"

"Do you really need another member of your fan club?"

"You could be my fan club's President."

That actually made me laugh, but I was laughing because of how stupid he sounded. Judging by the goofy smile on his face, he may have thought that it was because I found his joke funny.

By the end of glee, we hadn't gotten very far. He wanted to do something popular and mainstream while I wanted to sing something Lana Del Rey related. He preferred something upbeat, and I preferred something slow. We had even taken out our iPods and exchanged them, but somehow we had only two artists in common: Lynrd Skynrd and Maroon 5. Everyone was getting their things together, apparently having made great progress, and we still hadn't even agreed on a genre.

"You know what this means." Quentin said to me with a smirk as he got to his feet, slinging his black Jansport book bag over his shoulder. "You have to spend time with me." He tore out a page from his backpack and took the charcoal pencil from his ear, scribbling onto the paper. As he handed it to me, I caught a glimpse of three uniform-clad Cheerios staring at our interaction.

Guess who just became enemy number one?

Well if it's a war they want, it's a war they'll get.

With a careless hair flip, I reached out to take the paper from him and let my hand linger against his for a few moments longer than necessary. The look of shock on his face nearly made me laugh, but I harnessed my inner Santana – we all have one inside of us – and winked at him playfully. "I will definitely see you later." Turning on my heel to walk out of the room, I knew the priceless shocked expression he had on his face would give me reason to laugh for years to come.

Quentin's POV

You know the phrase "It's good to be the king"? Take it from me – it is _so _good to be the king. Ever since puberty everyone stares at me. I am fully aware that that line is one of Maureen's lines from "Take Me for What I Am" in the musical Rent. That's what happens when you have three female best friends. Mrs. Berry, Rachel's mother, looks a lot Idina Menzel. Oh, the things I'd do to Idina Menzel. But I digress. When I hit that ripe age of 12, everything about me doubled in size. I grew several inches – you guess where – and my hair changed from a brown to a light blonde colour.

Around the same time, Kitty, Santana, and Brittany were in cheerleading camp. The four of us had been friends since birth and their obsession with becoming the popular girls they saw on TV was insane. Santana was the oldest and Kitty the youngest, but we only had three month spans in between our births. Santana was the only one of them who skipped that awkward-face-full-of-metal phase and went straight to full blown goddess. It was difficult not to fall for her or either of the others given how much time we spent together, but I hated the idea of not being able to have platonic relations.

That so doesn't mean I haven't seen any of them naked.

While they were training to become HBIC's, I was in every sport I could get my hands on. Rugby, lacrosse, football, soccer, racquetball, baseball and basketball were the most important things to me. Over the years it dwindled down to lacrosse and football, but keeping in shape for all of those paid off. I had a gym in my basement and worked out when I woke up, when I got home, and before bed every day until I turned 16. My speed, strength, and agility made it easy for the title of football and lacrosse team captain to fall into my lap during sophomore year. The rest of the school came along with them. Under my leadership, the tide turned. People began treating team members with respect and fear. The cheerleaders actually felt they had a reason to cheer – even if they didn't, my girls would give them all the reason they needed.

People wondered why I bother myself with glee club when I'd been having slushie facials directed to my fellow members since the school first came under my domain. Even though I had never been too keen on the idea of maintaining friendships with those losers, glee was a place where I could sing and dance without getting criticized for it. It was the only place I could go all High School Musical and not receive weird looks at the end of my performance.

Glee club typically means two words: Rachel Berry. It would be easy for a blind guy to see how indifferent she felt towards me. Indifference is colder than hatred, because indifference means that the person doesn't give two shits about what happens to the other. For some reason, it bothered me. Most girls couldn't resist my lingering gaze or half smirk. Maybe it was merely Ohioans, but girls were normally easy. When I look at her, she simply keeps my gaze with those deep brown eyes devoid of any emotion.

I don't like her. She just gets me curious. I want to figure out what makes her crack, what makes her scream and beg for more.

My phone rings and I withdraw it from my pocket, accepting the call.

"Hello, Quentin." comes the official sounding voice from the other end. _Speak of the Devil._

"Why hello, Rachel." I sat up in bed, smirking even though I knew she couldn't see me. "I was just thinking about you."

"That's great. Are you busy at the moment?" Internally, I groaned. There was no inflection in her voice that showed that she was affected by my words.

"No, I'm not. But you're welcome to come and keep me busy for a while."

"That's exactly what I plan to do." she said, her voice low and husky. Did I imagine that, or did Berry just flirt with me again? I thought I was hallucinating earlier in the choir room. There was no way this could be a continuation. Before I could recover, she spoke again in her normal tone of voice. "We have to find a song to do for glee, remember?"

"Of course I remember. You wanna do it tonight?"

She scoffed, and I could imagine her eyes rolling as she did. "Calm your hormones. Give me your address."

I complied simply because there wasn't enough time for me to come up with a way to make my reply sexual.

"Great. I'll be over in a couple minutes. Oh, and Quentin?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop fantasizing about me."

She hung up before I could snap out a snarky comeback. Damn that girl, always getting the better of me. I desperately needed to up my A game before people found out that Rachel Berry had left me speechless.


	2. Bury The Castle

**ADORED**

**Disclaimer:**Even though this will be AU, I do not, have not, and will not own any of the characters unless they are an original character. All characters used belong to Ryan Murphy and FOX Company.

**Summary: **Rachel Berry and Quentin Fabray are shooting stars from two different worlds. One has her sights set on the stage while the other has his sights set on his latest challenge. We all know something big happens when two stars collide. Genderswap!Quinn. Rated M for mature language.

**A/N: **First time writing both Genderswap!Quinn and a story without a supernatural element. Go easy on me. And if anyone would like to be my beta, well, that would be awesome. Also, since this is slightly AU, Shelby and Hiram are Rachel's parents, Quentin's parents actually _care_, and Beth obviously doesn't exist. (But that last one isn't so AU is it?) Also, updates might be sporadic. I cannot promise an update on a particular day, although I usually update during the week.

**A/N2: **(apparently) Quinntana exists. Thusly, you should go read "Locked In and Loving to Hate It" by Quasi-Suspect. That fanfic made me ship Quinntana and fall in love with the author. Also, I had to re write this damn thing twice in one night. It's currently 4:30 am and I have approximately and hour and 10 minutes until I have to be up for school. Joy.

Chapter Two: Bury the Castle

Rachel's POV

_It was embarrassing, to say the least. The pain, both emotional and physical, overwhelmed my other senses and rendered me unable to process my thoughts. The slimy, cold, blue liquid made its way down my shirt, and my subconscious was not happy with that fact. My fourteen year old self acted purely on instinct, lunging towards my oppressor. My hands made contact with Cheerio-clad flesh catching her off guard, sending both Santana and I to the ground. _She had no reason to do that _was the only thought crossing my mind. The presence of teachers and staff around us didn't occur to me. She hit me with all her strength, but I clung to her, waiting for her assault to weaken. I screamed some pretty lewd things at her while she replied in Spanish, and at that moment I was grateful for having taken French. The next thing I was aware of was hands wrapping around my waist and carrying my small form away from Santana and those around her. _

_"Put me down!" I had screamed, flailing my arms and legs._

_"You'll get yourself killed!" a voice screamed, still holding on to me._

_He held me while I tired myself out, even though the liquid assault had been dripping onto him as well. Eventually, it dawned upon me that I had just _attacked Santana-freaking-Lopez_, and my life was pretty much officially over with. Even after just a few months at William McKinley, it was evident that Santana was a force not to be trifled with._

_"You can put me down, now." I told the person holding me. All the fight had finally gone out of me, but he slowly set me down as if expecting me to make a run for it._

_I spun around, looking up at the person who rescued me from myself. _

_"Thank you." I told him, extending my hand. "I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry."_

_He shook my hand while smiling down at me. "Noah Puckerman, Lima's resident badass.' _

For the past three years, Puck had been my best friend. Most people had no idea how we would even know each other, much less be friends. If he hadn't been there the day of my first slushie facial, our friendship probably wouldn't have happened. We attended synagogue and glee together, lived a few houses away from each other, and had each other over for family dinners. Our relationship has not always been strictly platonic, as always seems to be the case when two people become especially close. We had tried the whole dating thing for a few weeks before deciding that while having someone to call our own was nice, we were quite better off as friends. We knew too much of each other's secrets for our relationship to work, and we put the brakes on it before our friendship was destroyed. Even though he hung out with some of my tormentors, he still remained faithfully loyal to me, even when Santana bugged him about it.

Due to the fact that I didn't have my own car and that my mother was currently utilizing the family one, Puck drove me over to Quentin's house – but not without his round of questioning.

"Why do you need to go over to his place?" He asked as I climbed into the front seat, looking me over. "And why are you dressed like that?"

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a look, picking the fabric of my shirt between my thumb and forefinger. I was wearing a plain black v-neck, a pair of Almost Famous jeans, and my favourite boots. No make-up adorned my face, and my hair was in a ponytail. Not at all date material. This was more like an outfit for a night out with my friends.

"Firstly, this is my casual wear. Secondly, it's Quentin we're talking about."

"You never answered my first question."

"I'm going over his house to engage in sexual intercourse."

"_Rachel."_

"We're doing that duet thing for glee together, remember? We never picked a song."

Puck started the car then, seemingly placated by my response. We drove along for a while, talking about what had transpired during the day. He had been paired with Brittany, and they had picked a song – "My First Kiss" by 30H!3 featuring Kesha. He told me that even though Brittany had her moments when she seemed lacking in the brains department, she often spewed wise nuggets of wisdom. And even if she wasn't entirely all there, she was hilarious and kept him laughing.

"Don't have too much fun with her. Santana might go all 'lima heights adjacent' on you." I warned him, making quotation marks in the air. That girl lived in one of the biggest houses in the city. Most people called it a mansion. She was about as Lima Heights adjacent as I was.

We pulled up to Quentin's house as Puck slowed his convertible to a stop.

"You know," Puck began, gazing up at Quentin's house, then looking at me. "Even if Quentin was hard to get, I bet you could steal his heart away."

With a scoff, I undid my seatbelt. "I doubt it. Why would he want me when he has the entire cheerleading team pining after him, waiting to obey his every command?"

Puck shoved my shoulder with a laugh, his version of an amicable hug. "You underestimate yourself. Now get out of my car."

I did as I was told, getting out of his car and walking up to Quentin's front door. His 2013 Camaro was the only car in the driveway. _Great, _I thought. _Now I'll be alone with him._ Before my fist could make contact with the door, it flew open, halting my movements. Leaning against the threshold stood Quentin, looking down at me with a grin on his face.

"So you _do_ own something other than sweaters and unflattering tops." He said, his piercing hazel eyes roaming over my body.

"Do you ever think with your brain rather than your genitalia?" I asked in annoyance as I walked into his house like it was my own. I'll be damned if his inability to focus made me lose out on a chance to showcase my vocal talent. We were picking this song tonight even if it killed him.

"Not when I'm alone with a pretty girl in my home."

"While someone with a lesser amount of confidence would be charmed by your compliment, I will not fall victim to your petty game. Now, do you have a place where I could dock my iPod?"

"Yes. I also have a place where you can dock your –"

"Quentin Fabray, I am perfectly trained in the art of martial arts and if you finish that sentence I swear to Barbra that I will make you regret it." The same way I was regretting ever setting foot inside his house. He held up his hands and chuckled, unfazed by my threat, and headed towards a staircase descending down into what I could only hope was a regular basement.

"Nothing funny about this, I promise. I do my best singing down here." Quentin said with sincerity in his voice. "It's soundproof, so I also write and play instruments."

With a wary look over my shoulder to him, I flicked on the light and began to head down the stairs.

Quentin's POV

When Rachel saw my basement, she seemed at a loss for words. And that was something, because she hardly ever stopped talking. She looked around the area a few times before realising that she was, in fact, in the same dimension. I had a mini studio down here, complete with a glass area for recording along with a computer hooked up to a mix board. My guitars were propped up in their stands, leaning against the wall. My drum set was in its corner, sticks on the seat. Other than my parents, no one knew how serious I was about my music. In fact, Rachel was the first person to come down here.

"I honestly did not expect any of this to be down here." Rachel said finally, turning to face me.

I walked over to my Mac without saying anything in return. Shaking the mouse to wake up my computer, I shrugged my shoulders. I opened up iTunes and clicked around a bit. "Now, I know you may have had something in mind, but I've been searching for a song for us to sing. It may be a little out of your comfort zone, but you'll sound fine." From the speakers embedded into the walls, "All to Myself" by Marianas Trench began to play.

With the opening chords, Rachel sat there and seemed to soak in the song. There was no immediate struggle as I had anticipated. By the second verse, she began to tap out the rhythm against her leg, drumming her fingers against it. I noticed that she was going to the beat of the drums of the song rather than the guitar, which was what most people did. Maybe there was a true rocker in the innocent Rachel Berry after all.

When the song finished, she flashed me a smile she kept handy for things that had to do with singing. "You know, it may not be one of the greatest songs ever written, but it could work for our vocal range." She clasped her hands together in excitement. "Could you please provide me with a lyric sheet?"

Before she came over, I printed out two copies of the lyrics for the song. I also gave us parts, but she wasn't allowed to know how much thought was actually put into this.

Handing her the sheet, I said, "Are you sure you can learn this in time?"

Rachel merely arched a brow and sang the chorus perfectly.

"_Did you say 'Please just follow me'? I thought you wanted me._

_'Cause I want you all to myself._

_I can try and suck it up – _

_I just can't suck it up –_

_Make me feel like someone else._

_Please just follow me. I thought you wanted me._

_'Cause I want you all to myself._

_I can try and suck it up – _

_I just can't suck it up –_

_Make me feel like someone else."_

I let out an appreciative whistle in surprise. Marianas Trench was one of my favourite bands, and she managed not to disgrace them.

Then the most amazing idea struck.

"Berry, do you play drums?" I asked her. She looked over at me curiously as if wondering where my train of thought was headed.

"I am well versed in them, yes. I took lessons."

"Do you want to make our performance the best damn thing they've ever seen?"

"I'm listening."

**_THE NEXT DAY_**

There was no other way to put it, no way around it: I was excited for glee club.

My adrenaline amped me up and kept me on an emotional high ever since I woke up this morning. Football practice was at 6, and my performance was even better than usual. Coach usually placed me in more than one position during practice, in case I wanted to do something other than be quarterback. Even the plays that I wasn't perfect in – the man-to-man and the zones – seemed slightly better. Showering off, I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from belting out our song. This may not be common knowledge, but singing while showering with about twelve other guys was never a good idea.

I couldn't focus much in class, however, but that was fine. Being one of the smartest kids in my grade had its advantages. I could slack off for a day or two and still be ahead of the teacher's lesson plans. But I didn't let on about that often.

When the last bell rang signifying the end of classes I practically raced my shadow to glee club. As my luck would have it, the day I actually wanted to sing, I was scheduled to go fourth. After patiently listening and politely clapping to Artie and Marley's "Give Me Love", Finn and Blaine's "Another One Bites the Dust", and Kitty and Kurt's "Misguided Ghosts", it was finally time for Rachel and me to perform.

I went to a corner of the room and retrieved drumsticks and my guitar. Passing the sticks to Rachel and trying not to laugh my ass off at the expression of our peers faces, I got in my performance mode.

_I don't patronize, I realize_

_I'm losing and this is my real life._

_I am half asleep, and I am wide awake._

_This habit is always so hard to break._

_I don't want to be the bad guy,_

_I've been blaming myself and I think you know why._

_I'm killing time, and time's killing you_

_Every way that I do._

_[Chorus:]_

_Did you say "please just follow me?"_

_I thought you wanted me._

_Cause I want you all to myself._

_I can try to suck it up,_

_I just can't suck it up._

_Make me feel like some one else_

_Please just follow me._

_I thought you wanted me._

_Cause I want you all to myself._

_I can try to suck it up,_

_I just can't suck it up._

_Make me feel like some one else_

_I'm under the gun, you're like the only one._

_I just can't decide what I'm running from._

_This isn't what I wanted, but_

_I can't keep my filthy fucking mouth shut._

_It's not enough, it's never enough._

_I wish I could breathe without getting it stuck._

_Can't focus it, but I try it_

_over and over again._

_[Chorus]_

_Na na, na na, na._

_Na na, na na, na na._

_Na na, na na, na._

_Na na, na na, na na._

_Please just follow me?_

_I thought you wanted me,_

_Cause I want you all to myself._

_I can try and suck it up,_

_I just can't suck it up._

_Make me feel like..._

_Did you say "Please just follow me"?_

_I thought you wanted me,_

_Cause I can't stay with someone else,_

_I'll try and suck it up,_

_I just can't fuck it up,_

_I want you all to myself._

_Did you say "Please just follow me"?_

_I thought you wanted me,_

_Cause I want you all to myself._

_I can try and suck it up,_

_I just can't suck it up._

_Make me feel like someone else._

_Na na, na na, na._

We were pretty damn amazing. During the song, some of those stragglers that are always in the hallways bet never seem to step inside to wonder where all the singing is coming from happened to walk in during our performance. The crowd grew in size and so did our showmanship. Rachel did some tricks with her sticks that were totally wicked, but she'd never hear that from me. At the end of our performance as I wiped sweat from my brow and flipped my hair back, I made eye contact with her, sharing a small smile.

Rachel Berry knew how to let out her inner rock star.


	3. Blue Velvet

**ADORED**

**Disclaimer:**Even though this will be AU, I do not, have not, and will not own any of the characters unless they are an original character. All characters used belong to Ryan Murphy and FOX Company.

**Summary: **Rachel Berry and Quentin Fabray are shooting stars from two different worlds. One has her sights set on the stage while the other has his sights set on his latest challenge. We all know something big happens when two stars collide. Genderswap!Quinn. Rated M for mature language.

**A/N: **First time writing both Genderswap!Quinn and a story without a supernatural element. Go easy on me. And if anyone would like to be my beta, well, that would be awesome. Also, since this is AU, Shelby and Hiram are Rachel's parents, Quentin's parents actually _care_, and Beth obviously doesn't exist. (But that last one isn't so AU is it?) Also, updates might be sporadic. I cannot promise an update on a particular day, although I usually update during the week.

**A/N2: **Quentin's going to tend to call people by their last names. To me, it's a sign of lack of respect, and in this place in the story, he values no one other than himself.

**A/N3: **Thank you for the reviews and alerts! I see you all enjoy Rachel as a drummer. What else do you want for her personality? What about the other characters? And I apologise if the dialogue doesn't seem realistic. My friend told me that my dialogue is messed up because "you talk differently than most people".

Chapter 3: Blue Velvet

Rachel's POV

Since my first slushie facial, Santana and I had always been at odds. At first, I had tried to be cordial whenever she was in my vicinity, but it was rather difficult to be nice to Satan. Over the years, Puck had often times prevented me from doing something to provoke Santana even further, and for that I was grateful. From what he has told me, he tried to do the same with Santana, but the girl was stubborn and bull-headed.

The day after my performance with Quentin, I knew I was in trouble even before I saw the fiery Latina. At the end of our duet, my eyes landed upon the unholy trinity staring at me with looks of hatred and jealousy. Given the adrenaline laden state of my mind, my thoughts weren't processed properly. Thusly, I returned their gazes by pointing my sticks at them and winking.

I'll be the first to admit my stupidity.

The morning after my insolence, I walked into school feeling glad beyond belief that the time which I had to spend with Quentin was done with. I would no longer have to bear his wildly sexual remarks and deal with his cocky persona. There was more pep in my step than usual, and I was smiling.

And that's when the cheerleaders attacked.

One moment, I was walking to the school café. The next, I was being pulled inside a closet that I was conveniently walking past. As my mouth opened to scream, a hand went over my mouth, clamping it shut. The dim light coming from the closet's light bulb showed the outline of three vicious looking girls. Well, only two of them were vicious. The third seemed way too giddy.

Santana, who happened to be the one silencing my screams, smirked deviously at me. I backed away with wide eyes, only to bump into Kitty behind me.

"What are you guys – "

"Listen, RuPaul," Santana began, grabbing the collar of my shirt and tugging me closer to her. "In case you haven't gotten the memo, Quentin is off-limits."

"You and your manhands need to stay away from him." Kitty added.

"Unlike every other female at this place, I don't have any feelings for Quentin." I told them, brushing specs of dirt from my wardrobe.

"I thought Santa's elves weren't supposed to lie?" Three heads swiveled over to Brittany, whose head was tilted with a curious expression. Firstly, I was not that short! Secondly, did she truly think I was an elf?

Taking advantage of my distraction, Santana grabbed me by both collars and slammed me against the nearest wall. "Although I'm starting to think that you're a lesbian, I need to give you a thorough warning: stay away from Quentin." While I wanted to make a biting comment about the nature of the 'friendship' she had with Brittany, I decided it would be best for me to just smile and nod - which is exactly what I did. As they released me, I ran out the closet and down the hallway.

"Rachel!" Bounding my way was Finn with that ever present goofy smile on his face. He raised his hand in a wave. "Hi, Rachel."

"Hello, Finn! Are you looking for something?"

"I was looking for you actually. Could we walk?"

There I was, walking alongside the third most popular boy at McKinley. Why had the boys taken a sudden interest in associating with me? It couldn't possibly be my endearing personality. With a quick glance down the front of my shirt, it was revealed that my chest was still of ample size. What exactly was going on? Silently, we walked towards the dimly lit auditorium and up to the stage. On it was the average picnic blanket held down in its four corners by blazing orange candles. A little ways off, a small boom box played quiet music. Finn stood by it, awkwardly blushing as he fumbled to find his words.

Wait a second. "Finn Hudson," I began. "Is this a _date_?" How could that be possible?

His face lit up in a grin as he nodded his head slowly. "I don't know why, but I find you really attractive. When you sing it sounds like the angels, and I actually don't hate your bossiness." He shrugged. I gestured to the stage, unable to make myself coherent enough to say the right words. Finn took my speechlessness as a sign that he was doing a good job, so he stood up straighter and gave a cocky little grin.

"I cannot accept this. While the fire hazard is a pretty sight and that basket is probably filled with non-kosher foods that took you a while to find in the supermarket, I'm not okay with this, frankly because I don't trust you, or the company you keep. Who put you up to this?" My voice cracked a bit as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Rachel-"

I stomped my foot lightly to insinuate my seriousness. "Don't beat around the bush. Was it Santana? Quentin? Who told you to do this?"

Finn jumped down from the stage and walked over to me, a concerned look upon his face. He reached for me as he spoke. "I thought you would like this, Rach."

"How desperate do you think I am?" I yanked my arms from his grip and turned to exit the auditorium, tears threatening to spill over. _Well that escalated quickly_, I thought to myself, blindly stumbling past rows of velvet chairs as Finn called out my name behind me. It just made no sense. I understood Puck still caring for me even though our paths had taken us on different ladders of popularity. But Quentin flirting with me and allowing me to see a side of him that no one else got to see and Finn taking me out on a date? Someone's ulterior motive had to be in play, and I was the victim.

I stumbled out through the doors and ran right into someone's broad chest. "Sorry," I told the person half-heartedly, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"Rachel? Why are you crying?"

"Great, just the person I wanted to run into."

"This is the happiest you've been to see me. What's wrong?"

"Quentin, I am not in the mood to deal with you, or any of your friends."

"What have my friends done?"

Exasperated and quite frankly not giving a damn about how I looked with my mascara running down my face, I threw my hands up and glared at him.

"Why don't you ask your little girlfriends what happened, hm? Kidnapping me and coercing Finn into asking me out on a _date_? Did you really think I would fall for that?"

"Finn asked you out?"

"Yes, Finn led me to a little area in the auditorium where he had this cute, romantic lunch set up. Finn and romantic are two words that should never be in the same sentence unless the phrase 'is not' lies between them. That had Kitty written all over it."

Quentin grabbed my shoulders tightly and bent down to look me straight in the eye. His hazel eyes blazed as he spoke. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe the guy actually likes you?"

I scoffed and shook my head, laughing humourlessly. "Guys like him don't fall for girls like me." I told him, gesturing to my body. Before he could reply, I shrugged out from his grip and ran outside, leaning against the cold exterior of the school building. There were classes after lunch, and glee club at the end of the day, but they would be forgone today. There was no way I would be able to concentrate. I fished my phone from my pocket and dialed my mother's number.

Quentin's POV

Normally, I don't give two shits about nerdy girls crying in the hallways of school. Comfort is what friends and parents are for, not devilishly handsome boys who have no idea what their names are. Mean and self-centered, I know. But when said nerdy girl runs into me and happens to be Rachel, I take notice. I saw something in her during our performance that made me think that she was more than a bossy, extremely literate singer. When she wouldn't tell me what happened, there was only one other option. I ran into the auditorium after she stormed out and went straight up to Finn, who was leaning against the stage.

"'Sup, Q?" He nodded his head in a greeting. I stood in front of him, taking in the sight. Picnic blanket, candles, and a picnic basket.

"Dude, did someone put you up to this?" I asked him, gesturing to the stage.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I was talking to Kitty about Rachel, and she dared me to ask her out. I tried to."

Calmly, I grabbed him by his shoulders and slammed my fist into his face, more than likely shattering his nose. He groaned out in pain and swung wildly, but I grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back, shoving his body against the stage.

"Dude!" he exclaimed in pain, writhing around.

"That's because I can't do that to Kitty and because you're an idiot." I shoved him once more for good measure and jogged out of the auditorium, looking for the girls. Seeing as how it was lunch break, I found them at our usual table in the cafeteria. Brittany, Santana, and Kitty were at the center. Santana happened to look up as I entered and patted the seat next to her. I sat next to her and leaned over, whispering in her ear.

"What did you do to Rachel?"

To the average person, it would have seemed as if her facial expression stayed the same. But animosity replaced the humour in her eyes, and she shook her head with a light laugh, grabbing one of my hands. "Now is not the time to talk about this, Q."

I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. She was right. The best place to talk about the treatment of Rachel was certainly not in the midst of the most popular kids in school. Bringing her up here would only do harm. So, I had to find a way to distract myself from the memory of her tear-stained face.

Luckily for me, the perfect opportunity dropped into my lap.

The new girl, Marley, happened to be walking down the aisle with her tray of food, headed to the table where all the other losers resided. Azimo and his buddies quickly formulated a plan; he stuck out his foot as she passed, and inevitably, she tripped over his outstretched leg. The contents of her plate - spaghetti and meatballs - flew into the air and then dropped onto her while her body dropped onto my lap. Trying to rein in my laughter, I helped her to her feet and gave her one of my patented smirks.

"Looks like you've fallen for me, Rose. I'm flattered."

Marley's face coloured with her blush as she looked around at my friends having a laugh at her expense. "I-I'm sorry. I tripped over something." she said with a pointed glance at Azimo, who winked at her, unashamed at her calling him out. I waved her apology off, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Let's go get you cleaned off, okay?"

Guiding her out of the cafe, I looked back at Santana and arched a brow, letting her know that we would most certainly continue our conversation later. "I don't have a change of clothes." Marley protested, and my attention went back to her. "I should just go home."

"Nonsense." I told her. "You can just borrow some of Santana's clothes."

I led her to Santana's locker and spun the combination, grabbed a few things and held them out to her. Marley looked at the clothes warily. "Don't you think these clothes are a little tight?"

I smirked and shrugged my shoulders. "I would hope so. Besides, would you rather walk around looking like the flying spaghetti monster than wear San's clothes for a day?"

Effectively convincing her, she went into the bathroom to change. I stood outside, not allowing anyone to enter, wanting to be the first to see her in the new digs. I knew Kitty was trying to convince her that she was grossly overweight, but Marley had a fantastic body. Seeing that in Santana's clothes was bound to make me, well, _happy._

"I look like a - like Santana." Marley said as she walked out. She was wearing a tight white v-neck shirt and black skinnys. She leaned more towards loosely fitting clothing, so her curves were hidden most of the time. But this outfit revealed those and made me realise that she did, in fact, have boobs.

_And this goes right in the spank bank, _I thought to myself. She must have caught my wandering eyes - I wished they were wandering _hands_ - and blushed, crossing her arms over her chest. "My eyes are up here, Quentin." she said with a nervous laugh. My gaze snapped back up to her face and I grinned.

"Sorry. I was told that I rarely think with something other than my - "

"Thank you, for that information!" she cut me off, waving her hands. I laughed and shook my head at her as the bell rang, signifying that lunch was over and we should be heading to class.

Walking backwards, I winked at her. "Hope to be seeing more of you soon, Rose." I wished I had gotten to talk to Santana about Rachel, but Marley had proved to be the best distraction, which was exactly what I needed. Screwing the lunch lady's daughter would probably be a fantasy for the likes of the Jacob Ben Israel types, but I was seriously considering my options.


End file.
